A Dawn and a Morning After
by JRTT
Summary: Wedding Night- An Elizabeth Point of View. Oneshot Complete


I'm back- reposting some stuff and will add new. Not much dialogue in this one but it remains a special piece for me. Enjoy!

 ** _A dawn and a morning after._**

 ** _A P &P short._**

Elizabeth's eyes shot open in the darkness before the dawn _...Well Elizabeth Bennet,_ the young woman thought to herself _it is done_ and then suddenly she reminded herself quite forcefully _Darcy! You are a Darcy, a_ _Darcy_ _! A Bennet no longer!_ Wincing slightly, Elizabeth _Darcy_ moved sparingly on the bed with undue caution, her mind and her body not quite yet released of its excessive state of disarray from the previous night.

She had half expected him to leave after their first coming together, the much anticipated consummation. But he did not. Instead he stayed and did things, such things to her that left her confused and exhilarated all at once. Gone for the night, perhaps even forever with her, the very reserved and fastidious man she had known him to be. The man in his place was direct and purposeful. He had no hesitancy. Tonight he gained exacting and overwhelming pleasure in making her his. He had wished for it, longed for it. He was a man who felt much and that night he left her in no doubt of his feelings. That night she had experienced pure euphoric delirium. It was, she thought, the opposite of how her mother prepared her for that night. It was all ... _very good, very good indeed_. She had experienced sensations that she could never have imagined. Never have believed possible between a man and a woman.

From the very first moment of their bonding, the sense of wonderment and oneness she felt when he slowly, inexorably entered her and rested himself inside of her was, without question, the most profound experience of her whole life. Her thoughts at that point had been raging and emotionally rampant.

 _Here she was, with a man who, previous to a year ago, was utterly unknown to her._

 _And now she was married to him._

 _And now, he was inside her._

His chest was flush against her naked breast. His hand had one of hers held up, fingers entwined, pressing her, while his body pressed into her. He rested on an elbow as his other hand was on her face, gently brushing back her hair against the dampness of her forehead. Her brow furrowed into concentration as he inched slowly forward, whispering words of encouragement, following them with a stream of kisses, desperate kisses, cajoling her, loving her...worshiping her. His attempts at calm soothing devolved into a frenzied passion as he warred within himself, tilting with her on the precipice of pain and pleasure...telling her to relax, begging her to relax. "Elizabeth my love, please darling." He groaned against her as her muscles involuntarily stiffened and contracted around him.

It felt like painfully exquisite torture.

And then, in a sudden quiet, he was fully in her...resting...twitching...filling her and when she involuntarily squeezed in response he gasped, raising his head to look at her in amazement. She squeezed again, hard, enjoying the sensation. It felt like new found power. Here she was, in a most vulnerable position, if he wanted to use her roughly he could easily have done so. His body dominated hers completely but all she had to do was squeeze muscles she never knew she possessed and she had him completely in her thrall.

She had earlier experienced minor shocks after the maid was dismissed and he took over. His attire was the first to discompose her. _Her_ Mr Darcy was always impeccably turned out. _Her_ Mr Darcy was always very proper. _This_ Mr Darcy was very casual. Where is my Mr Darcy?! She had thought with some mirth. He had observed her laughter with amusement of his own. And shook his head at her when she refused to enlighten him on the joke.

Tonight he simply sported a long nightshirt. His neck was exposed, his muscled legs were exposed, the v-shaped front exposed his previously secreted chest, dusted with fine hair.

She felt faint.

She had shivered then and he grew immediately concerned, wanting to know if she needed the fire rebuilt. Wanting to know if she needed some water, wanting to know if she needed some wine and, as a joke at her recalcitrance, wanting to know if she needed some snuff. She snorted her derision and then, just like that, good humour and comfort were restored.

Then she gave in to everything with wild abandonment, easily matching his ardour with her own fervour. She marveled at the ability of her hands to run up and down the length of him as they turned and twisted on the bed in a still furious need for closeness. Their lips fighting for preeminence only releasing its hold in a breathless departure before their writhing, arching bodies locked them again in a tumultuous dance. She could feel the pounding of his heart as he could feel the racing of her pulse. They moved to a sublime rhythm. They moved as one.

But _that_ was under the cover of darkness.

The night replayed itself like a symphony, a heady blend of music that fascinated and thrilled her. She had been herself, but she was not, she had become something more than herself. Sometimes, with what they did, she did not even recognise herself. _Am I really touching him here?_ Her hand would still as the surreal thought crossed her mind. But in his passion, Darcy never noticed and _his_ craving kept impelling hers onwards. _Is he kissing me there?_ As she felt the deliciousness of his lips linger lovingly on the tips of her nipples before he ravaged her breasts _. Is this? Ahhhh, yes it is, it DOES feel so good, so very good_. She had felt totally free and unrestrained, overcome by feelings and emotions she had never experienced before. Her body trembled at the possessive sweep of his hands. His kisses, she was willing to die at that moment for his kisses.

He was unstoppable, irresistible, she hardly knew what she did. Where he led, she blindly followed with an eagerness that spurred him on with unrivaled passion.

Twice she felt him come to a maddening halt, pushing himself up as her name escaped his lips, her body wringing elevated sensations out of his. She was fluid to his every desire, responsive to his every need. She knew not when her legs lifted of their own accord and wrapped themselves around him.

Twice she was stunned into a pleasurable surprise as her mind and her body shattered her reserve into a thousand brilliant tiny pieces around him. She knew not when she moaned his name, called him her love, and embraced him tightly against her glistening, pliant form.

Now here, in the morning, with a grey dawn approaching, she was not prepared. She did not know how she was to behave. The morning after… _this_ morning after was the oddest, most awkward, most embarrassing moment of her life and, as yet, only she was conscious. She dreaded him being awake.

Even now, there was a long, lean, muscled arm slung over hers. She had never before had the opportunity to be exposed to even a man's bare arms, far less for what lay beyond; hills and valleys of shoulders and back and chest and... _All is well_ , she schooled herself, _he is your husband, it is normal_. She mentally recited it several times over as she bent her head to view the arm and the hand that splayed over her stomach, involuntarily her stomach muscles contracted as she viewed the somewhat possessive hold he had on her. Even in sleep, it seemed, he could not let her go. She was, for all intents and purposes, captured.

She sighed quietly. _How does one even begin,_ she thought morosely, _to rid oneself of the embarrassment of being with another?! How does one achieve immediate comfort after such a night?_ Neither her talks with Charlotte, nor her mother, nor her aunt Gardiner, gave any insight to this new predicament. The knowledge that she was entirely naked under the covers did nothing to alleviate her growing uncomfortable panic. The mere thought of her nakedness, coupled with his, and the revisiting of the immediate past and of the intense pleasure it had afforded her, doused her entire body with the deepest of flushes.

With her back turned to him, she faced the wall of the bedroom _your_ _bedroom_ she reminded herself. Her eyes went over and over the trellised bamboo wallpaper, its green shade slightly faded in certain areas. She was sure, after the fifth perusal, she could trace the pattern exactly with her eyes closed. She viewed without restraint the area that would greet the morning sun when it arose, and no doubt, her husband with it. That area was enveloped in heavy silk drapery, the deep yellow of which superbly accented the green of the wallpaper.

 _So richly elegant_ she thought as she sighed again in an attempt to not be overcome by the wealth she had married into.

The two sets of windows overlooking the streets of one of the richest parts of London, were covered in rich silk that fell solidly into five pleats on either side. Twenty pleats...of silk…heavy silk, extending almost from floor to ceiling. She mentally rechecked them, her heart rate increasing again in rising panic of a different sort. Uncharacteristically, she felt herself daunted. Her words to Lady Catherine returned to haunt her "He is a gentleman, I am a gentleman's daughter, so far we are equal. _But_ , she thought wryly, _you are not! There is very little Elizabeth Bennet… Darcy!_ _Darcy_ _!_ She mentally kicked herself, _there is very little_ ** _Elizabeth_** _, that from your previous life prepared you for this one_. She sighed again.

Her gaze took in the rest of the room. As she perused all the various corners and nooks, the items of furnishings and water colours and sconces on the wall, she became struck by her lack of familiarity. There was nothing in her surroundings that she could claim to have viewed in any great detail before. Her attendance by her new ladies' maid in the shadows of the previous night, coupled by her extreme nervousness gave her little leave to attend to anything, and Darcy's appearance shortly after, had put leave to her senses altogether. Viewing her surroundings now, she amused herself with the thought that her very first entry into Darcy House on _ Street, was as its mistress.

"Poor Miss Bingley" she uttered aloud and then stifled her mirth with her hand. It was terrible she knew, to gloat, but the feeling of satisfaction she gained from marrying, well the man of her dreams, the man of any woman's dreams really, was one that she was quite willing to bear the burden of.

That thought, relaxed her as nothing else could, and in the thin darkness of the room, she shifted slightly on the bed to turn on her back. There was no break in the breathing of the man beside her, so she relaxed even further and took in all that the room had to offer. Both her eyes and her mind were engaged as she accustomed herself to the dim light. She was pleased that the floor was not altogether carpeted and that the deep, dark floorboards were accentuated by plush pieces of a luxuriant green rug strategically placed under the bed and spilling out at the sides and at the foot. This was complemented similarly by much the same, which was placed in her dressing area. When she had felt it underfoot the night before she had audibly sighed at the comfort. _They smell of exotic, foreign, newness_ , Elizabeth thought as she inhaled deeply. She just knew he did it. His taste was impeccable, even for such small things, his concern for her comfort was unmatched. His behaviour was evermore a rousing mixture of love, pride and delicacy. The thought sent a flood of emotions coursing through her body like nothing else could. She trembled, and shivered with nervous anticipation hating to have him awake, but longing very much to have him so.

Almost imperceptibly the room, which had begun to lighten, started to once again darken. _London weather_ she thought curiously. The room had gotten marginally colder, it had begun to rain outside. November rain, cold and unrelenting. She wished very much to get up and stoke the fire, but dared not do so. She shivered again, whether more from the weather or her thoughts, she knew not exactly. She pressed down on the exquisitely woven woolen blanket with her feet in an effort to stem the cold air that came from an exposed area at the bottom of the bed and then froze mid activity. Her toes had encountered his, which, with his leg half way up, were well within reach. Her sudden arrest scrambled her mind _oh! That he should awake!_ then _Oh! His toes are so very cold!_ She played the thoughts over and over, wondering how to proceed. She was conflicted, she wanted him to be kept sleeping, if only for a while longer, while she mentally prepared her mind for this new day, but compassion also fought within her, she wanted to… _warm him?_

Gingerly, surreptitiously, moving her feet, she attempted to drag the blanket up with her toes, to limited success. After two more attempts, she resolutely got up and reached to the edge of the cover and brought it forward to cover them both. Sitting up, she turned and glanced towards her husband. His body was turned to her. His face was quiet in repose. She studied his profile, as waves upon waves of emotion crested within her body. She lightly reached across and tucked a stray curl behind his ear, pausing to run her hand along his jawline. The gentle rough texture felt pleasant, she developed a longing to press her own cheek against it. He stirred slightly and she pulled away to observe him before resettling on the same pillow where his head rested. She looked at him, her face mere inches away from his. _This is my husband, the man who will be the father of my children_ she thought. Unruly tears escaped out of the corners of her eyes. _I was made for him and for him I have waited my whole life._ His wealth mattered not, his station mattered not. What mattered was that he was hers and she was his. She wanted a marriage filled with love and she knew she found it.

The rain started to pound hard against the windows. Washing away the past, she thought. It was a cleansing rain, just as it swept through the streets of London carrying away the grim, soiled mess, it swept through her heart, leaving her spirit anew with contentment and belonging. As she watched his peaceful face, she decried her hesitancy and threaded her fingers through his hair. Her touch brought him out of sleep.

"Elizabeth" he said, his voice was low and thick. "You are cold darling?"

She nodded, blushing at his endearment.

"Come" he whispered, as he shifted to create a cocoon for her with his body.

She gratefully melted into him as he wrapped his arms about her, while she did the same to him. They both quietly listened to the rain falling above their breathing and just before they fell asleep again in the early dawn of a new day, she felt his arm tense as he pulled her in even closer.

"I love you." He said.

She took a deep breath as she subconsciously committed all of herself to him.

"and I love you." She returned.

And she did.

 _Finis_


End file.
